


Just A Whiff

by eeyore9990



Series: December Gift Fic Spree [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Scents & Smells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feeling a bit <i>hunted</i> in France, Isaac runs to London, where a mysterious scent leads him on a merry chase</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Whiff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goddessofcruelty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/gifts).



> December fic spree day 5: gift for Goddessofcruelty.
> 
> Happy December 5th!

_That smell…_

From the moment Isaac stepped off the plane, there’d been a scent that had flirted with his senses, winding around him and leading him on this chase through London. It was maddening, and tempting, and _frustrating_ because no matter where he went in the city, it didn’t become stronger or fade away. It just stayed on the edge of his consciousness, teasing him.

He would have assumed it was simply a product of being in a new place; France had been too stifling. As much as he appreciated Chris Argent pulling him out of the insanity of Beacon Hills and ensuring his safety, the Argent compound in France had been filled with hunters. Hunters who loved to caress their weapons anytime Isaac entered a room, who stared at him just a little too much. He’d finally escaped to London, unable to bear that level of scrutiny any longer.

But there was no way the scent was simply London itself. This was Isaac’s first time in London, but the scent… It was too _familiar_. It was like a word on the tip of his tongue, or a friend in a dark room. Some part of him knew what it was, he just couldn’t _name it_. And that was the most frustrating aspect of it.

For days, Isaac chased the scent, growing more irritable by the hour as it never seemed to change. Until finally, it _did_. It grew a little stronger, and then bloomed, bright and overwhelming, as Isaac entered an obviously affluent neighborhood. It was so strong here that Isaac could almost _see_ the scent, touch it and taste it. He chased it down the street and up the wide, street-side steps in front of a stately home, not stopping until he was frantically beating against the door with his fist, ignoring the weighty iron door rapper completely.

When the door was finally answered, Isaac rushed past the man who stood there, not even stopping to ask who lived here. He bolted up the stairs and down the hall, bursting into a room that was large and spacious, filled with light that streamed in through the windows. And then he tripped to a stop, disbelief filling him. 

"Lahey? What are you doing here?"

It was… Jackson. Whittemore. What the absolute fuck? 

"Look," Jackson said, tossing down a magazine he’d been reading and rolling off the bed he’d been lounging on. "If Derek sent you to bring me back to Beacon Hills, you can tell him to kiss my a—" Jackson’s voice broke off into a gurgling, confused noise when Isaac buried his face in Jackson’s throat, dragging his nose back and forth over the thick tendon there, dragging that scent deep into his lungs.

It smelled like _home_ , and _pack_. It was comfort and security in a world where neither really existed. 

Isaac wrapped his arms around Jackson’s waist, lifting him right off his feet as Isaac straightened to his full height, still breathing in Jackson’s scent. But it wasn’t enough; he needed _more_. Opening his mouth, Isaac began to lick and suck at Jackson’s neck, dragging his tongue over the length of it, nibbling on the underside of Jackson’s jaw, feeling the scrape of midday beard over his lips. 

"Lahey… Isaac, dude, what are you…?" 

Fingers in his hair yanked, pulling him back, and Isaac whined, a high, wounded sound. “Please,” he begged, the first true word that had passed his lips in _days._

"Fuck, man, you are _wrecked_. What the hell is going on?” Jackson’s eyes flashed blue, and anxiety began to thread through his scent, souring it, changing it just enough to bring Isaac back to himself.

Hissing a curse, he dropped Jackson and backed quickly away, not stopping until he was huddled in the corner, sinking down the wall. He curled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, eyes wide as his fingers twitched. “Sorry,” he breathed, and then, “sorry. I’m sorry.”

Jackson plunged his fingers into his hair, ruffling it before a breath burst from his chest. “What the hell, man?”

Isaac dropped his eyes, studying the pattern in the carpet as heat bloomed in his cheeks. “I don’t know. I’ve never… When I got off the plane, I smelled,” he shrugged, helpless. “I smelled you. And I’ve spent _days_ following that scent, _your_ scent. It smells so _good_ , I just…” 

"You smelled me." Disbelief flattened Jackson’s tone.

Blinking, Isaac raised his eyes back to Jackson’s face and nodded, wordless.

A knock at the door startled them both, and Jackson whirled toward the doorway, where an older man stood. “Jacks? Is this a friend of yours?”

"Yeah, Dad. It’s fine, he’s just visiting." Looking back at Isaac, he narrowed his eyes. "Right?"

Isaac bit his lip and nodded, looking at Jackson’s dad and murmuring, “Sorry, Mr. Whittemore.”

"No problem, son. But maybe next time, you could introduce yourself before you knock over the help?"

Wincing, Isaac ducked his head and said again, “Sorry.”

"Would you close the door on your way out, Dad?" Jackson asked, slightly snotty, but less than the asshole he’d been when Isaac knew him.

Mr. Whittemore stared at Jackson for a long moment before he dipped his head in a nod and pulled the door shut, giving Isaac and Jackson their privacy.

As soon as the latch engaged, Jackson crossed the room to Isaac, offering him a hand. Taking it, Isaac let Jackson pull him to his feet and they both stood there, looking each other over, taking in the changes that a year and half had wrought in the other.

"You look good," Jackson said, slightly awkward. "Better."

Isaac felt something burst from his chest, and only belatedly realized it was a laugh. A slightly hysterical-sounding laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. “I just spent five days tracking your scent across London. Pretty sure I look like shit.” 

With a smirk twisting his lips, Jackson shrugged. “The homeless, ragamuffin orphan look works for you.” Then, with a taunting quirk of his eyebrows, Jackson tilted his head to the side, baring his neck.

Isaac felt the room tilt as his entire body leaned toward Jackson, his nostrils flaring as that scent tugged at him once again. Closing his eyes, he curled his hands into fists, letting his claws drop out to cut into his palms and bring him back from the edge. “Don’t _tease_ me, asshole.”

"It doesn’t have to be a tease."

Eyes flaring wide, Isaac looked at Jackson, a question on the tip of his tongue.

"I haven’t had sex since I moved here. I’ve been too afraid of losing control. But with you…"

"You don’t have to worry about that."

"Right. So come on, Lahey. What are you waiting for?" And then Jackson stepped closer, face wavering and reforming as he let his beta shift take over. "Come and get me," he slurred around a mouth filled with fangs.

Isaac let go of his control, his wolf rising to the surface. With a joyous shout, he leapt, and Jackson met him halfway. They collided in midair, twisting and snapping at each other as they hit the ground, neither willing to cede control to the other. Clothes were ripped, torn, left in shreds across the carpet as they rolled and fought, claws dragging down skin but not drawing blood. Just _teasing_.

"Touch my dick, asshole," Jackson snarled, and Isaac did. If for no other reason than to shut him up.

He twisted around, burying his face in Jackson’s groin and drinking deep of that scent, licking around Jackson’s balls and _tasting_ it on his tongue. A hand on his own dick made him go still, and then he let out a rumbling groan, hitching his hips as Jackson tightened his grip. He fucked into Jackson’s hand, head swirling with lust and arousal all heightened by the thick scent that stirred him on a bone-deep level. 

Before he lost complete control, he opened his mouth over Jackson’s dick, taking it deep into his mouth, not even pausing when Jackson hissed, “Watch your damn teeth!”

He huffed a laugh around Jackson’s dick, and then concentrated, shifting back to human because, well. Yeah. Fangs and dicks didn’t exactly mesh well. Then he just sank down, one hand wrapped around the base of Jackson’s dick, jacking it and keeping Isaac from going far enough to gag. But he licked and sucked, a little too sloppy maybe. It didn’t seem to bother Jackson, though, who was bucking his hips, muttering encouragement even as he kept up squeezing and jacking Isaac’s dick, twisting occasionally near the tip.

It was over far too soon, both of them coming within seconds of each other. As they lay there, sprawled out against each other after, Jackson started laughing.

"What?" Isaac asked, smacking him on the shoulder lazily with the back of his hand.

"Want another whiff?"

Punching him this time, Isaac muttered, “Asshole.” But then he rolled over and stuck his face in Jackson’s neck again because, well. He kinda did.

And if it didn’t end with just a _whiff_ , no one was complaining.


End file.
